Turning Over An Old Leaf

This column originally appeared on Sunday, April 12, 2009

Keeping life simple is a concept that many people try to embrace, even though that can be somewhat problematic in a world in which pirates suddenly reappear among the various and sundry dangers that travelers must gird themselves against when going overseas. But I aspire to that lofty goal and put it at the forefront of both my long term and everyday decisions.

My list of New Years’ resolutions, for instance. I try to keep them simple and thus easy to attain. “I promise this year that I will not take a dog’s temperature in church,” is one I have found easy to adhere to. “I will avoid giving my neighbors a gift of Haggis for Easter,” is another. "No space travel for me this year" is a sure winner. I realize that you will consider these to be an example of stacking the deck, but since I’m dealing the cards only to myself I feel no shame in loading the aces on the top.

I will now, given the events of last weekend, be able to add another such resolution to the list: “I promise not to attend the Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington D.C.”

Do not get me wrong. I have nothing against the blossoms themselves. They were wonderful. Delightful. They were everything you would want a blossom to be. And the venue for their blossominess was a treat as well. As many times as I have visited our nation’s capital, I never found the opportunity to walk the Tidal Basin area. As basins go, I’d rank it up there among my favorites.

The trip to Washington last weekend also gave me a chance to stop by the Vietnam Memorial, a place I had avoided in the past out of fear of being overcome at the stark emotion it might give rise to. But I found it inspiring in its beauty, and stood in awe of the imagination that must have gone into its creation. The connection it offers to both the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument made me think about how we now recognize that the ordinary among us are as worthy of timeless respect as the extraordinary.

But unfortunately for me, I had to experience all of that in the presence of a crowd that I would conservatively estimate approach one billion, many of them speaking loudly into cell phones. It was the time of the season – peak blossom time, I’m told – as well as the blue of the sky and warmth of the sun that brought everyone out and I can’t blame them. But in their presence I was once again reminded of that snippet of conversation between Wanda and Henry in the film “Barfly,” when she asks him if he hates people. “No,” Henry replies. “But I seem to feel better when they’re not around.”

When Yogi Berra said, apocryphally, “No one goes there anymore, it’s too crowded,” the person he was referring to was me. Some people recharge their emotional batteries in a big group of strangers they can turn into friends; others do the same by themselves. I belong to the latter.

Now, don’t get the impression that my resolve never to attend the Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington D.C. again will have any impact on my cultural and/or aesthetic development. In the cherry blossom department, I’m pretty much covered.

You see, I live on what has been proclaimed by pretty much everyone I have talked to as the second most perfect flowering tree spot in the country, West Miner Street. Take a drive down my way sometime this week and you will see what I mean. Spring along this stretch of road simply bursts with blossoms pink and red and white and variations in between. In a short while as the wind picks up and the blossoms loosen their grip on the boughs, the street looks like a colorful snow squall had struck.

And I’ve got a little bit of the Washington experience right outside my front door. You see, back in 1912, U.S. Rep. Thomas Stalker Butler received two Japanese sakura, or cherry, trees as a gift, from the same lot that ended up being planted at the Tidal Basin. He took them home with him and planted them in the front yard of his home in the 200 block of West Miner where one has grown fat and fit and tall and its blossoms bountiful and beautiful.

And I resolve to enjoy them again next year when they come again.